


High School is Strange [OLD]

by WoolyLambda



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Potionless - Freeform, butterfly bog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4894726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoolyLambda/pseuds/WoolyLambda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange Magic high school AU inspired by the first prompt of tofixtheshadows.tumblr.com's Art Major College AU. Lots of ButterflyBog awaits, with a bit of Potionless sprinkled throughout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Panic

 

Oh  _shit._

Marianne hadn’t thought twice about choosing the sharpest of the lino-cutting knives when her professor had outlined the assignment for that period. She’d been working with lino for years now, she had thought to herself. No need to worry. The dull throbbing of her bloody finger now said otherwise. She quickly scanned the room, holding her wounded thumb in a tight grip. Marianne had wrapped the clean side of her smock around the cut, but dark red had already started to ooze from where she clutched it, creeping further up the fabric every second. Glancing down at the unfinished lino-cut, she cringed. A bead of blood had settled in the crevices of the carving, giving it the macabre appearance of ink. Panic began setting up shop in her chest, clanging pots and pans above it’s head, and hollering obscenities at the top of it’s lungs. She had to find a first aid kit before this became a problem.

 _Marianne, this is already a problem_. Panic stopped it’s cacophony just long enough to chastise her on her priorities. She really needed to find that first aid kit. Getting up from her desk, her bloodied digit now dripping with ill-contained gore, Marianne staggered towards the side of the classroom that had been hidden by a folding partition. Maybe the kit was on the other side? Damn Roland for discouraging her from taking that emergency-preparedness course. ‘ _Honey-bunches, why would you ever be in an emergency? I’ll protect you, sweetums._ ’ The thought of her cheating ex made Marianne shudder. Or maybe that was the blood loss? Perhaps a mixture of both. She staggered again as she made her way around the make-shift wall, this time pausing to look around once more. Aha! The kit was strapped to the door of the opposite wall. As she continued over to her goal, she caught the gaze of one of her classmates. Benjamin? Bob? She couldn’t quite remember his name from the role-call. His piercing blue-eyed stare traveled from her face, down to her hand, and back up to her face once more, rapidly turning sour. He quickly and silently rose from his seat, long legs carrying him from his desk to the kit and then over to her much more quickly than anything she could ever hope to accomplish with her meagre stature of five foot four inches. The rest of the class had somehow managed to continue without so much as a glance at either of them, even the teacher looking a bit bored as he gazed down at his papers.

“Um, hey. Ye might want to come and sit down over here if you want me to patch that up.” The gravel and faint accent of his voice dredged her up from the lakebed of her thoughts. Her vision was already wavering, so Marianne simply nodded, and followed him to where he beckoned. He gestured to his seat, so she sat. Marianne’s focus shifted lazily from his face, to the table, and then drifted again to find his cutting. It was a beautiful floral motif. Sweeping stems and delicate petals were the primary focus, but even the occasional insect dotted the carving, segmented eyes peeking out from behind the leaves. He caught her attention again, bringing her back from her thoughts as he replaced the now lax pressure of her hand with the strong compression of his own. Bog tended to her wound with practiced ease, creating a compress with the gauze, and securing it with strips of medical tape. Marianne struggled to find the words with which to thank him. Her lips twitching in the pantomime of sounds, but never truly formed them.

“The name’s Bog. You should probably stay back here for a little while, or at least until half-past.” His accent came through more clearly now that there wasn’t blood pouring from the person he was speaking to. _Bog_. She would have to remember that. Marianne shook her head, trying and failing to clear the fog of blood-loss from her mind. When she opened her eyes, she saw that he – Bog – had procured a bottle of water, and was holding it out towards her. With her unscathed hand, she reached for it, opening it with her teeth before taking a lengthly gulp of the cool drink.

“Marianne.” She croaked in response. Her voice wavered, still obviously affected by her recent injury. After a moment, Marianne made to vacate the man’s seat, but he quickly shut her down, moving his cut and supplies to the empty desk a few feet away. Come to think of it, beyond the partition, no one but Bog occupied a desk. She would have to ask him about that once she was in a more apt position to do so. Marianne continued to nurse the bottle of water until she finished it, at which point Bog wordlessly replaced it with a new one, balancing the empty on top of the pile in the overflowing recycling bin. She smiled at this, snorting a bit as he cracked the new bottle and set it down on the desk beside her.

“So, tough girl, are ye feelin’ any better?” Bog’s easy cajoling caused another snort to escape, this time a bit louder, garnering a few stares from those who could see beyond the partition. He smiled as well, revealing two rows of just slightly crooked teeth.

“Yeah, thanks.” Her voice had steadied since the last time she had spoke. She gazed down at her lap, eyes flying wide open as she saw the extent of the blood that had been spilled.

“Was wonderin’ when you were going to notice that. I cleaned what I could around your thumb, but you’re going to need some help washing up around the bandage.” He gestured to the dried blood flaking from her palms and the backs of her hands. A large bloom of crimson now decorated the portion of smock she had used as a make-shift bandage, staining the front of her person like a massive stab wound.

“Is there a sink back here?” Marianne offered up the bandaged hand to him, not so much waiting for an answer as she was for him to lead her to it. He nodded, and led her around an actual wall, in contrast with the partition. It hid the sink, a countertop, and a set of cupboards that were apparently also situated in the back corner of the art room. Leading her to the steel basin, he turned on one of the taps and shoved a raggedy tea towel under the stream. Bog set to work on carefully wiping away the blood, being constantly mindful of both Marianne’s pain, and his diligent wrapping. The bandage itself had not yet threatened to give in the slightest, so Marianne wasn’t worried about it. Once he had finished the cycle of washing and rinsing, Bog glanced down at her ruined smock, narrowing his eyes at it as though he found its character unsavoury.

“Is your shirt alright? Any blood?” He nodded down at it as he washed the rag off one last time before hanging it to dry. Marianne hadn’t thought about her smock soaking through. Even then, she had changed into a grubby shirt for the express purpose of preparing for such an event. Marianne loosened the ties of the smock and held it away from her body. A smaller bloom of blood had made its way through the fabric of the smock and onto her shirt, and now that she had lifted away the covering, chilled and stuck against her flesh in a way that made her skin crawl. Marianne pulled a face of disgust, and looked up to see Bog rummaging through his bag. He pulled a massive t-shirt from the pack, and held it up for her inspection. It was a fairly nondescript band shirt, a group she didn’t really listen to, but she accepted it all the same.

“Y’know, I could totally be an ax murderer.” Marianne said as she set her bloody apron down on the countertop. She gestured for him to turn around, waiting as he caught her meaning and rapidly averted his gaze.

“Obviously not a very good one if ye can still cut yourself doing linos.” This made her chuckle as she hastily replaced her soiled top with his, making sure to favour her wounded hand. The shirt very nearly came down to her knees, so she scraped around in the drawers for a bit, finding a rubber band to tie it up at her hips. The shirt smelled faintly of earth, and of a light cologne. Marianne breathed in deeply, savouring the pleasant scents before returning to her stolen desk and taking a swig of water. Bog followed, a pleased smile spreading across his angular features. As Marianne came around the corner, she noticed a trail of blood leading from her desk, past the partition, and to Bog’s seat.

“Little red dots. All over the floor…” Marianne giggled to herself as she sat down. Bog snorted, and answered with,

“Feed me.” This sent Marianne into a fit of giggles, imagining the trap of Audrey II sitting on Bog’s shoulders. The rest of the period was spent shooting obscure musical references back and forth, Marianne retrieving her things from the other side of the classroom and setting up her space at Bog’s old desk. When the bell finally did ring, it was a struggle to finish their conversation. In the end, they both vowed to continue their conversation the next day, and exchanged numbers. Bog exited the classroom once everyone else had cleared out. He relished the silence of the room, light filtering in through tall windows to bathe half-finished painting or discarded sculptures in sunlight. He entered the hall with a smile on his face, but it quickly fell as he spotted a pack of four men about his age coming toward him.

“So. _Bog_ , is it?”


	2. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a very brief non-con kiss in the latter half of this chapter. It starts in the 7th paragraph under the hyphen, and ends in the next one down.

“Yea, and what of it?” Bog glared down at the other man, sizing him up. The blond seemed to be the exact sort of person Bog despised, with his little troop of followers, and air of superiority. One of the man’s posse readied to come at him, hands clenched into tight fists, but another of them held him back. It was at that moment Bog realized that the men following the blond were triplets. _Figures_ , he thought to himself.

“If you _fine_ gentlemen will excuse me, I’ve got to get to my next class.” Bog advanced, but paused when the blond held up a hand.

“Now, see here. From what I’ve been told, you’ve been flirting with ma’ girl, _Bog_.” He spat the name as though it was some foul taste in his mouth. “Just because our relationship is on the mend right now doesn’t mean I haven’t staked my claim.”

Bog snorted derisively. He had no idea how the ponce had heard about his interaction with Marianne, but he didn’t quite care enough to correct him.

“She’s not property, you arse. Now, seriously, shove off.” This caused the blond to balk, and he made way for Bog with a grimace. He faintly heard one of the triplets say ‘ _You shouldn’t have to put up with that shit, Roland_ ’ as he left them behind him. Roland. The next chance he got, Bog would be bringing this up with Marianne.

He made his way through the school in a daze, operating on auto-pilot as he went to fetch his folder for Music. It had been a bit of a struggle to bring his instrument with him on exchange, seeing as he played the cello, but he had purchased a seat on the plane for it all the same. Leaving it in Scotland meant potentially falling out of practice, and that would have been unacceptable. A smile touched the corners of his thin lips as he stepped into the music room. The scents of silver polish and mouthpiece disinfectant had always been the scents of home in his mind. He made haste in crossing the room to where his cello case sat, reverently unlocking and lifting it’s lid. The massive instrument had once belonged to his father, and was one of the only things that Bog had actively kept around as a reminder of his passing. Bog took his seat in the far recesses of the room, situated in the tight corner between the timpani and the xylophones, just behind the meagre saxophone section. After quickly tuning with the little electronic tuner that had been passed around and running a few scales, Bog’s thoughts wandered to the whereabouts of his own cohorts. Stephanie and Theodore, Stuff and Thang, were usually punctual, if not perpetually early. He wondered if something had happened to them. It was improbable, but all the same. He drifted back from his thoughts just in time to see a girl that looked strikingly similar to Marianne enter the room, chatting amicably with a young man carrying two instrument cases. _Hm_. Perhaps a sister? Bog didn’t linger on the though too long, seeing as Stuff and Thang entered just behind them. He waited as the two of them went about organizing their sheet music before joining him in the back.

“Hey, Bog!” Thang’s cheery presence was both a blessing and curse to Bog, as it made him look exponentially more cynical in comparison. He smiled at the two of them, and brought them up to speed on the events of his morning. Bog left out the more private details of his interaction with Marianne, such as the exchange of shirts, but spared no expense in his retelling of the altercation with Roland. His descriptions of the prick and his lackeys may have been a bit off, but they added to the narrative, and Bog was allowed to embellish; it was _his_ story after all.

“And then one of the clones gets really riled, right? Looks like he wants to deck me, and-“ Bog was interrupted by a squeal of delight.

“Oh my gosh! We’ve never had a cello player before, this is so exciting!” The girl he had noticed earlier was now standing right in front of him, starry-eyed at the sight of his instrument. She was definitely related to Marianne, now that he could get a better look at her.

“Ah, yea. Um, the name’s Bog.” Her eyes grew even more star-struck.

“Ooo, you’re Bog? Ha!” She turned around to address the young man she had come in with. “Sunny, I was totally right!”

“Aw, man! I guess I owe you lunch then.” The young man – Sunny – fiddled with the valves on his trumpet for a moment, a smile clear on his face despite his words, before returning to his sheet music. It was obvious that this sort of bet wasn’t at all a rare occurrence, and that neither was him buying lunch for her. Marianne must have told the girl about him, or Bog had a new stalker. That would a first. She turned to face him once more, smiling in a way that would be frightening on anyone but her, Bog realized.

“My name’s Dawn. I hope we can be friends, Boggy-Woggy!”

The nickname surprised him, but just as she had arrived, she returned to her section, too quickly for him to protest. Stuff and Thang snickered, Stuff being smart enough to hide her smile behind her music. Thang, on the other hand, had started to openly giggle at the name, unable to contain his mirth. Bog groaned. It would be difficult to shake that name in the future. He was pulled from his despair when the teacher stepped up to their stand at the front of the room, tapping their baton to it a few times to call a hush over the room. The lesson was spent sight-reading the new material, which the teacher told them they would be playing at the next school assembly. Every once in a while, when there was a lull in the playing, Stuff would whisper _Boggy-Woggy_ over Bog’s head to Thang. Each time Stuff did this, Thang would snort, and double over in an effort to contain his laughter. After a few repetitions of this, Bog cracked, and smiled along with the two of them. It eventually devolved into the three of them cackling in the back of the classroom. This led to a reprimand from the teacher, but it had been worth the scolding. When the period finally ended, Bog’s fingers ached like nothing else.

“You two are lucky. No mouthpieces to pass out into, and no strings to slice your fingers open on.” He shook out his left hand, willing the cramping to subside.

“Yeah, because a massive piano made of wood is so easy to play.” Stuff’s rebuttal made the three of them devolve into laughter again, though this time it was less raucous.

“At least you guys get to play more than two notes!” Thang continued, playing a roll on one timpani, and then doing the same on the other. This renewed the laughter, but it ended abruptly when Bog’s stomach let out an ungodly gurgling sound. Stuff and Thang snickered as Bog clutched his abdomen.

“Looks like Boggy-Woggy needs some foodie-woodie, huh?” Stuff said, causing Thang to burst into another fit of giggles.

This had to stop. Soon.

 

-

 

“Guess who I met!” Dawn set her tray down directly across from Marianne’s, reaching over onto her sister’s to snatch up a french fry. Sunny sat down beside her, a contented smile decorating his face.

“Who did you meet, Dawn?” Marianne asked, genuinely intrigued, even if she didn’t seem so. She reached in turn across the table to Dawn’s tray, being careful to use her good hand, and plucked an apple slice from her sister’s plate.

“Guess!”

“Dawn, I refuse to guess, Tell me who you met.” She gesticulated using the apple slice before taking a large bite out of it, a bit of juice dripping down her chin. Dawn looked as though she was going to explode under the weight of her knowledge. She sucked in a noisy breath.

“I met Bog! Did you know he plays the cello? I’m pretty sure he’s a foot taller than it is.” Marianne snorted, and nodded in agreement as she chewed, dabbing her face with a paper napkin. Sunny, who had thus far stayed quiet, also laughed.

"That guy is just plain creepy if you ask me. He is too tall for my short sensibilities.” This started another round of laughter. Sunny shared the plight of Dawn and Marianne, being only 5’3’ despite the fact that he was entering his third year of high school.

“I agree, Sunny. Bog doesn’t seem trustworthy at all.” The tell-tale sound of scumbag alerted the group to the presence of Roland and his ducklings as they swaggered up to the table. When he placed his tray next to Marianne, hoping to sit next to her, she pushed it off of the end of the table. She was not taking this shit today.

“Roland, leave.” She glared at him, eyes shooting daggers from her seat. Roland faked a pout, lip trembling as he lowered himself to his knees on the floor of the cafeteria. Clasping his hands in front of his head, his cronies followed suite.

“Marianne, please forgive me? I didn’t ever love anyone but you.” She scoffed.

“Do you think that makes you cheating on me an less terrible? God, Roland, just take a hint and leave me alone.” He rose from the floor and reached for her, taking her face in his hands.

“C’mon, honey bunches. Can’t you see I still have feelings for you? I know you do too.” Marianne squirmed in his grip as he moved to kiss her, trying and failing to push the heavy bulk of the man away from her.

“Roland, stop it!” her voice came as not much more than a whisper as he grew closer, fists pounding on his chest. Sunny and Dawn sat immobilized behind her. Just before he forced her pursed lips to his own, he was violently yanked away from her. Marianne swiped at her eyes, vision blurred by tears that had burst forth. When her vision did clear, she saw Bog standing at his full height, towering over Roland. The gleam in his eye suggested that he was very ready to end this altercation with violence.

“What in the bloody hell do you think you are doing, you utter twat?” Bog’s voice was laced through with only just-controlled rage. He was shaking slightly, as though keeping control was taking tremendous effort.

“I think that I’m kissin’ my girlfriend, _Bog_. Give us some privacy, will ya’?” Roland said Bog’s name as though that alone was an insult. The taller man looked to Marianne for approval. Approval for what, she did not know. Marianne nodded to him all the same. At that moment, Bog stepped back from Roland and cast his gaze down towards the floor. Roland smirked, now unafraid, and rested his hands on his narrow hips. He didn’t expect the heavy fist to his jaw in the slightest. Roland immediately fell to the floor, his lackeys rushing to his aid. All of them attempted to lift him from the floor, but he waved them off, spitting out a gob of blood before cradling the point of impact. The violence ended as quickly as it had started; one of the lunchroom monitors marched over to Bog and Roland, and escorted them to the principal’s office.

“Marianne…” Dawn murmured, and slowly reached a hand across the table to hold her sister’s. Marianne spooked at the touch, still in a daze from the near-kiss. The cafeteria had gone completely silent.

_I have to get out of here._

The older sister bolted from the room, much to the dismay of the younger. Dawn called after her, hoping that, maybe, Marianne would stay if she could talk to her. She had placed hopes incorrectly. Marianne descended through the stories of the school, tears pooling in her eyes once more. She knew exactly where she needed to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bog is here in America on exchange, if I made it unclear.


	3. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another warning for non-con kissing in this chapter. It's only really vaguely described, seeing as it's from Bog's perspective, but I want to make sure that anyone who doesn't want to read that doesn't have to.
> 
> Beta-edited by the wonderful [dancesonmoonlight](http://www.dancesonmoonlight.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!

The wait was making Bog twitchy. It hadn’t been more than a few minutes, but to Bog, the passing time was starting to feel like an eternity. He glanced up at the clock again, sighing. It wouldn’t be much longer until Roland charmed the pants off of the principal and had gotten away with what he had done. _Ugh_. Thinking about what had transpired made Bog gag. _How dare he disrespect Marianne in that manner? It was one thing to lie about dating, but to force himself on her?_ He jostled his gangly legs a bit, working the feeling back into them. The chairs that had been set up in the office waiting area were not made for the likes of him. Just as he turned to glance up at the clock a second time, Roland burst forth from the principal’s office. He looked white as a sheet, eyes wide as he exited. A hopeful smile picked up the corners of Bog’s mouth. Maybe there was hope that Roland would be punished. The secretary, an aged woman with snow-white hair, waved for him to enter. Ms. Plum, who had risen from her chair to see the other boy out, did not look pleased with Roland. When she locked eyes with Bog, however, her expression softened instantly.

 

She ushered him into a dimly lit office, and shut the door quickly after he stepped over the threshold. The room looked quite large, but it had been filled to the brim with enough trinkets to make a magpie faint. Bog sat when she gestured for him to. He wasn’t feeling uneasy, so to speak, just out of place amongst the dazzling fixtures of the room. Ms. Plum sat across from him, the navy plush of her chair just massive enough to look as though it could swallow her slight form at any moment.

 

“So, what _actually_ happened today?” Her glibness startled Bog, but it also re-ignited his hopes for justice.

 

“T’be truthful, I’d only just got there when he started moving in on her. Marianne’d told me during our first class that they’d broken up.” Ms. Plum sank further into the mass of her chair, a frown pulling at her aptly-painted lips. She nodded for him to continue.

 

“I knew something was wrong, obviously, and her sister wasn’t doing anything to stop him, so I intervened. I only punched him after he lied about them being together. It was pretty obvious to me that he was going to go further than just a kiss if someone hadn’t ended it there.”

 

Ms. Plum exhaled, running a hand through her shock of wavy hair. She turned in her chair, and in a flurry of motion, began typing away at a computer that had been hidden by the bulk of her seat. Bog, not quite knowing what to do, continued to sit with his hands clasped in his lap. A tiered chandelier hung from the ceiling, the lowest drop of faceted crystal dangling just above his head. He studied it momentarily. _Am I tall enough_ , he wondered, _to hit my head on tha’ wee thing when I get up?_ Bog shook his head to clear the thought form his mind. Scanning the rest of room, his eyes darting from one lavish furnishing to the next, he waited. Again, this stagnant time felt like another small millennia to his resting limbs. He shifted around, searching for a clock or some other timepiece. Just before he could find one, Ms. Plum whipped around in her seat, a Cheshire-cat grin stretching across her face.

 

“I’ve just sent an email to Marianne’s father, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Evergreen. Just so you know, this altercation isn’t going to show up on your Homestay record.” She winked at him dramatically, as though they now shared a secret. “You’re dismissed, Mr. King.” And with that, she returned, quite literally, to her laptop, and left him to the tick-tacking of her keyboard. Bog glanced upwards, just to be sure he wouldn’t hit the chandelier as he rose. He was going to have to go find Marianne now that all of this was over. Terror struck through him, tightening like a vice-grip in his chest.

 

_What if Roland had the same idea?_ The thought spurred him into motion, exiting the office, and subsequently the waiting room, at full tilt. This startled the secretary, who seemed to have dozed off at her desk. Bog raced down the corridor and towards the stairs. He knew where she had headed, so it was only a matter of time until he got there. _Which way was it to the art room? The school’s a square, for fuck’s sake_. Thankfully, once he had fully descended the stories of the building, he saw Roland’s goons guarding the entrance to the art room. The rage in his eyes must have been visible from a few feet away, because when he approached them, a snarl curling his features downwards, they broke rank and fled as fast as their legs could carry them. When he grew nearer to the door, he slowed, trying as much as he could to mask his footfalls.

 

“Marianne, Ah know you’re in here. Just come out and talk to me, baby!” The sound of Roland’s twanging voice made Bog grimace. He was going to have to diffuse this situation very carefully.

 

“Oh, honey, there you are. Look, I know you must be a ‘lil bit put out by that goblin that interrupted us earlier,” Bog twitched, “but now we’re all alone. Ah even sent Jackson, Jeremy, and Jamie to stand guard for us.” He heard Marianne begin a rebuttal, but her words were silenced by what he could only assume were lips. Bog rounded the corner, an absolutely feral sounding growl tearing from his throat as he advanced on Roland. The blond had obviously heard and seen him as he locked eyes with Bog before forcibly deepening the kiss. Roland let go of Marianne just as Bog grabbed his shoulder, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

 

“How _dare_ ye. How _dare_ ye treat Marianne as though she’s nothing more than another of your play-things?” Bog could easily see that the skin around Roland’s right eye was already starting to deepen in color. He grimaced, and clenched his fists to his sides. He couldn’t risk another fight. Roland sneered, and moved as much as he could into Bog’s space.

 

“How dare _you, Bog?_ ” Roland jabbed a meaty finger at the center of Bog’s chest. “How dare you keep interrupting us?” Bog took a step back. He looked over the other man’s head to Marianne, who did nothing but glare at the shorter blond. A dull look glazed her eyes as she too made space between herself and her aggressor. Marianne clutched her hands to her chest, nails biting into the flesh of her palms. Bog knew from experience that she would scratch herself bloody if she didn’t stop. He turned his gaze back to Roland, who was still sneering up at him.

 

“What I’m ‘interrupting’, _Legolas_ , is you assaulting Marianne. By my count, twice now. I’m going to have to ask ye’re stupid arse to leave, if ye don’t mind.” At this point, Bog was hissing through his teeth. Roland whistled, and turned smugly toward the door. When no one answered his call, he whistled again, louder. After his third attempt at summoning the triplets had failed, Roland turned that tell-tale sheet-white, and raised his hands in defeat. Bog could tell something was off about his stance. He moved to catch Roland’s flying fist just before it hit him square in the cheek. This ended whatever fight Roland was thinking about starting, seeing as he used the distraction of the fist to retreat, running from the room with a speed that Bog had not thought possible for the man. He turned back to Marianne, who had, as he suspected, started to pick at the skin of her hands. She flinched when he moved towards her, only relaxing when Bog took her now raw hands in his own.

 

“Y’know, Tough Girl, this is the second time today I’ve had to patch ye up. I’ve only got the one shirt, so be careful about bleedin’ on this one.” This caused Marianne to snort out a laugh. She moved to rest her head against Bog’s shoulder, and he drew her up into his arms. They sat like this for a few moments, moisture staining his shirt as she let out a few silent tears, before the sound of four sets of footsteps came rushing down the hall. Bog hugged Marianne more tightly to his chest, not wanting her to have to deal with Roland if he had returned, but quickly released her when he saw Dawn, Sunny, Stuff, and Thang enter the room. Both Sunny and Dawn rushed over to Marianne, moving quickly to draw her into a hug of their own.

 

“Oh my gosh, Marianne! We are so sorry we let him try that. We just didn’t know what to do! But then Boggy showed up and saved you, like some knight!” Stuff and Thang snickered, “I mean, obviously not like a _knight,_ I guess. But, still! I-oop.“ Dawn’s rambling was cut short by a look from Sunny, who she nodded to before returning all of her focus to the embrace. They both let Marianne go simultaneously, Dawn moving to grip her sister’s face in her hands. Marianne flinched away on instinct, shaking free of the hold with a grimace. Dawn pulled her arms down tight to her sides with a sharp inhalation.

 

“I’m _so_ sorry.” She whispered, backing away from Marianne. The brunette looked up, plastering a reassuring smile onto her face, and walked towards her sister. She knows this act all too well, Bog thought to himself. Stuff and Thang had moved to his side, watching the situation unfold.

 

“It’s alright, Dawn.”

 

“It’s really not, though! Marianne, we should have done something. We’re both just such huge cowards, and we didn’t know what to do.”

 

Marianne flinched momentarily at the words, the movement on her face so minute that Bog was sure that only he noticed it. She quickly remade the smile, and moved towards Dawn, arms outstretched. They hugged again for a short while, separating suddenly when the bell sounded. Bog stayed silent, and gestured for Stuff and Thang to do the same. He didn’t want to intrude on what could be a private moment between the two. There was a moment of quiet, and he noted that Sunny hadn’t made much more sound than a breath over the course of the ordeal.

 

“We should probably get to class, huh?” said Marianne as she swiped at her eyes. This gave way to a round of airy laughter, culminating in the six of them all exiting into the hallway. As they walked, Bog and Marianne found that they shared History class with Stuff and Thang, so Dawn and Sunny not-so-subtly departed, Dawn to Foods and Sunny to Gym. Marianne spent the remainder of their trip to class speed-walking to keep pace with Bog, who didn’t want to have to deal with a late slip on top of all of this, thank ye very much. She snorted at his grumbling, and slowed down just enough that he had to as well, starting up another session of the deep rumbling.

 

“Oh, is Boggy-Woggy worried he’ll lose marks for tardiness?” She jibed, elbowing the taller man much to the amusement of Stuff and Thang, who were also lagging behind. This set Bog off grumbling again, which in turn set off the chuckles.The laughter subsided when they entered the classroom, taking their seats in pairs; Bog and Marianne in front, Stuff and Thang in the back. They chatted idly for a few moments before the professor entered, which brought a blanket of silence over the room.

 

-

 

“Here’s the plan, Shortstack.” Sunny jumped with a startled yelp, whirling around to see Roland and his posse looming over him. It was lucky that they had caught him on the gymnasium floor and not in the changing rooms in a more compromised position.

 

“Roland! What a, um, _pleasant_ surprise?” He started running again, Roland and his lackeys not far behind.

 

“You said it yourself, Sunny. _Bog_ isn’t trustworthy. We’ve got to figure out how to get him away from Marianne.” He raised a finger when Sunny opened his mouth to rebuke him, effectively cutting the shorter man off.

 

“Sunshine, I don’t think you understand. If we help Marianne realize Bog’s dangerous, Dawn will be really grateful. Don’t you think Dawn would want to thank the man that kept her sister out of harm’s way?” Sunny perked up at this, if only for Roland’s phrasing. _If he could get in on Roland’s scheme_ , Sunny posited, _he could warn Marianne before anything happened_. He smiled to himself.

 

“Y’know what Roland, I think you might be right.” Roland laughed at this, and said,

 

“Might be? Sunny, you and Ah both know that Bog’s a threat, period.” Roland swirled a finger through his curls, and gestured back to his cronies before setting a quick pace for the run. The class had been assigned ten laps of the gym floor as a warm-up, which made Sunny resent his height even further. At least he could hang back with Pare, who was also not exactly skilled when it came to physical activity. He sighed. His legs were already starting to ache, and he hadn’t even gone three laps yet. Pare exited the changing room just as Sunny passed, so he joined the shorter young man, keeping pace easily. They ran like this in silence, as they did most days, until they completed the remainder of Sunny’s laps, Pare ending his warmup early. When they finished, the two made their way over to a group that had formed around the teacher. It seemed like they would be running drills. Sunny sighed once more.

 

_This was going to be a long period._

**Author's Note:**

> Bog, Marianne, Roland, Stuff, and Thang are all in the 12th grade, aka seniors. Sunny and Dawn are in the 11th grade.


End file.
